


Loss

by Polished07



Category: The 1975 (Band)
Genre: Gen, Miscarriage trigger warning, No band AU, george is like your generic businessman, ross is a nurse, this is sad im sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-06
Updated: 2017-02-06
Packaged: 2018-09-22 09:58:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,101
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9602969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Polished07/pseuds/Polished07
Summary: George reflects on the day during which he and his wife lost their baby.





	

**Author's Note:**

> ***trigger warning: miscarriage***
> 
> I wrote this about a year ago during a really dark point of my life, which is why this is such a dark story. Please be careful- don't read this if it will upset you. I have no intent to romanticize this subject in any way.

Ross drove us home after that grueling afternoon at the hospital, as neither me nor Hannah were coherent enough to stay between the lines on the way home. She sat with me in the back, her head on my lap and her legs pulled up as she laid as still as I had ever seen her. Even her chest barely moved as she breathed, and after endless nights of watching her sleep next to me, the deficient movement disturbed me. We had hardly said anything since the doctors told us the news, but there wasn’t much to say anyway. The life we created together and that appeared so suddenly in our lives was suddenly taken away before we had the chance to say hello. 

I stroked her hair as Ross continued down the highway, the yellowed street lights shining into his car in a rhythmic rolling pattern. I looked down at her as the lights passed over us, again and again, trying to find solace in those eyes of hers that always brought me joy, but for now her lids were closed over them with small tears leaking from underneath and slipping down her face, making small wet splotches on my jeans. It physically hurt to breathe in the air needed to talk to her and soothe her, and I was afraid that if I started talking I would cry instead. I settled for smoothing her hair behind her ear again and leaned my head back against the headrest, focusing on the empty highway lights that rolled by us one at a time. 

The memories of the day existed in my head as if they were a dream, with small images burned in painfully vivid colors, while other parts of the day I couldn’t remember at all. The vivid ones flashed through my vision, one after the other, each one stabbing my heart a little more than the last. 

I remembered the look in her eyes when I left for work that morning, how she looked unstable and worried, as she told me that she didn’t feel right. I grimaced at the recollection of my response to her, saying that she should stay in bed and get some rest, and that I would be home that evening to help her feel better. 

I remembered seeing her face light up my phone just after lunch, and how she sounded when I answered, telling me in a strained and terrified voice that she was bleeding and everything hurt and something had gone wrong. The cold shock that ran through my body was a feeling I would never forget; ice shot through my veins and pricked at my fingertips as my stomach plunged further than I thought was possible. I didn’t even remember what I said to her, or if I even told anyone at work I was leaving, but next thing I remember I was on the phone with Ross, frantically trying to communicate with him as I lost my mind out in the city parking lot. He was a nurse and a close friend, I thought that surely he knew something that would be useful. I remember the way my hands shook, and how I couldn’t squeeze the phone any harder without breaking it, and how I chucked my briefcase into the backseat so hard I think I broke it. I practically yelled at him as I tried to coax information about how I could help her, and I desperately tried to keep my voice from breaking, but the painful throbs tearing through my chest made my voice crack as tears threatened to overspill my eyes. He somehow managed to convince me to meet him and my wife at the hospital, as he could get to Hannah faster than I could, and then the memory of the rest of our phone call and the drive to meet them faded away like everything else. 

I knew what happened at the hospital would be burned in my memory forever. It existed like snapshots in my mind, one photo after another. The sickly porcelain look to Hannah’s skin as she lay in her bed when I first saw her. The unsettling darkness in Ross’s eyes when he pulled me into the hallway and confirmed the horrible suspicion in my head. The way Hannah seemed to break right in front of me when the doctor told us what I, and perhaps she, already knew. I would never forget the look in her eyes or how her figure crumpled or how her lungs deflated or how her hand squeezed mine so hard that it hurt almost as much as the pain in my chest. 

The backseat of Ross’s car was less stressful than that hospital room where everything had happened, and I forced the memories down, knowing we would be home soon. Everything was quiet now, excluding the hum of the road beneath the tires and the occasional sniffing of Hannah from my lap. Ross didn’t say anything as he parked the car in front of the house. He turned the engine off, and no one dared to move for a few moments as we let the newfound silence wash over us. I couldn’t look at him, even though I knew he was waiting for me to make the first move to head towards the house. Hannah gave another sniffle from my lap. I kept my gaze on the front porch, where the bikes of our two young children leaned against the brick of the house. I knew I would eventually have to tell them what had happened, even though I wasn’t sure how much they would understand. We had just told them they would be getting a sibling two weeks ago. 

I ignored the stabbing my heart took as I remembered just three nights ago when the four of us, me, Hannah, and the kids, sat in the living room watching some TV after dinner. Nora and George sat on either side of Hannah, poking at her preciously small tummy, which was already showing despite it being only a few months into her pregnancy. Nora had said she wanted it to be a girl, and when little George looked confused, she explained to him in an adorably innocent way that the baby they had been told was coming was in mommy’s tummy for now. They were both so excited already, and I remember the way Hannah’s eyes caught mine when the kids were chatting about their brother or sister, and the proud smile she carried as she was surrounded by our kids. 

I tried to hold the memory of that smile in my mind, but it was impossible to keep it for long while I had her depressed body lying on my lap. The weight of telling Nora and George that there wasn’t a baby coming anymore was a daunting task that suddenly made the trip into the house much more ominous. 

Another one of Hannah’s hot tears spread into my jeans, and I knew it would be best to get her into the house and up to bed. I unfastened my seatbelt, and Ross took the cue that I was ready. He helped me delicately pull Hannah from the backseat and position her against me like a baby. She was nearly limp in my arms, and it felt horribly like carrying a lifeless body. Her head rested gently on my chest. 

With heavy footsteps, I carried her into the house, relentlessly holding myself together to keep from falling apart in front of her. One of us had to hold on to sanity for the other, right? At least while we could. 

Matty stood from the couch when we walked through the front doors, his hands anxiously tied together and his eyes full of worry. Ross had called him earlier that day so he could pick up Nora and George from school and to watch them while we were at the hospital. Matty didn’t say anything though, and we exchanged a somber glance as I carried Hannah towards the hallway to our bedroom. Ross closed the door behind us, Hannah’s ruined bloody jeans still clutched in his hand.

“The kids are asleep,” Matty said softly, his eyes holding their gaze on us. I thanked him with a nod, as I was afraid what my voice would sound like if I spoke, and took Hannah down the hall. 

I heard the muted voices of Matty and Ross coming from the living room as I situated Hannah in our room, but I tried to tune it out and focus on her. Her eyes remained dazed, her back slouched as she sat on the edge of the bed. 

“Let’s get you cleaned up, okay?” I whispered, but she didn’t show any sign of response. I reached out for her shirt hem, and when I pulled it up slightly, she lifted her arms and let me pull it over her head. The swell of her tummy was still there, although now vacant of the life it once held. I tried not to dwell on it, instead focusing on getting her out of her clothes, and out of mine as well. There was no way I could let her shower alone. I helped her get back on her feet before scooping her back into my arms and carrying her to our bathroom where I could shower her and wash the remnants of the day off her skin. I pretended not to notice the blood, both wet and dried, on her inner thighs. 

Within the warm stream of the shower, after I had washed her with her favorite soap, she stood under the water, wrapped in my arms, and sobbed into my chest. I soothed her best I could, and it took every ounce of strength I had left to stay strong for her and hold her upright.

It wasn’t until nearly two hours later that I returned to the living room: I took my time when I dried her off, and I held her until she fell asleep, which took a long time in itself. Matty waited for me in the living room, as I knew he would, watching TV with a blank expression on his face. He looked up at me while I descended, his eyes soft and sad. The sound of the sink running in the kitchen told me Ross had stuck around too. He cursed loudly from the other room, and I asked Matty what he was doing. 

“He’s trying to get the blood out of her jeans,” he said as if he was hesitant to tell me. “He’s been scrubbing at them for over an hour now,” he added. We exchanged a worried glance.

Arriving at the kitchen, I could see Ross from behind, his shoulders shaking as he furiously scrubbed at the jeans in the sink. I hesitantly reached out for him, and he jumped slightly when I made contact, but shrugged me off and went back to cleaning once he saw it was me. I glanced at the ruined pants, the dark stain still prominent in the soapy water. “Ross,” I interjected, but he cut me off. 

“No! I can fix it. I can do it, it just needs a little more work,” he said stubbornly, and continued scrubbing, even though his hands had turned bright pink from effort. 

I understood why he was taking it hard; in each of Hannah’s pregnancies, he had paid close attention to her, using his medical knowledge to make sure she stayed as healthy as possible. This one was no different. 

“Ross. They’re ruined. Come sit with me and Matty,” I tried to convince him, but he didn’t make an effort to come with me. He stopped scrubbing at the jeans, but the water kept running, forming more bubbles in the soapy water. I saw his face turn red as tears welled behind his glasses. I rubbed his arm again, unable to say any more words myself, before leaving him alone for a moment to face the reality of what was gone. Nothing else could be done about it now. 

I returned to the living room, although when my eyes met Matty’s I wasn’t sure what to say, but he simply said, “I know,” and gestured for me to sit with him on the couch. He put his head on my shoulder and wrapped an arm around my chest, sighing. “I’m so sorry,” he said, and for some reason that was the final straw, and finally, after holding the shattered pieces of myself together all day, I broke down.


End file.
